In the Darkness I Remain
by JeffC FTW
Summary: No one knew whether or not Scarecrow survived the attack in Killer Croc's lair - but he did. Dangerously wounded and disfigured, he crosses the vast Gotham Bay and wanders through the rain into the city to find her. The one who promised to wait for his return.
1. Memories More Precious

**Being a huge Batman fan, it never fails to enjoy writing Jonathan Crane as I love him as much as Mr. Freeze, Poison Ivy and Two-Face best out of all of the Bat's foes. I've done fics of Scarecrow before, such as "Elizabeth and the Scarecrow", "The Doctor's Damsel", "The Hellbound Heart", and got a few more chapters left of "Shadows Nevermore". He's such a delight, and I never thought I'd do him in the Arkham Asylum universe. The idea dawned on me this morning out of the blue as much as imagining the exact event of his face and maybe his body being damaged by Killer Croc's attack. Before Arkham Knight came out, I always knew he'd be alive - I can still remember screaming "Oh, my BABY!" when the reptile burst and dragged him down. Now that the fourth and finale in the game series is out, I haven't been able to find any fics that showed what REALLY happened, because what happened to him involves graphic medical imagery - and him returning to the one person he had left in his world.**

 **The story is named after a line in the song "Remember When it Rained" by the marvelous Josh Groban. :) And thanks to Dino Andrade for his wonderful voice of the Master of Fear.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but a main OC.**

Chapter One

Memories More Precious

To have the fun while it lasted while the Rogues of Arkham ran free in their walls - only for it to be stopped by both the Bat and the reptile. How could he have been such a fool to let this happen to himself?

The Joker had struck a single deal with everyone in Arkham to have their fun with the Batman as soon as he gave himself up - then the fun would truly begin for them all. This would have been something beyond Batman's control...and Scarecrow would have been satisfied with breaking his mind once and for all, but the Joker would have murdered him for "spoiling the fun". The clown was so full of it and fond of swishing out the knife and gun; why on earth would Harley put up with that monster?

Monsters were believed to live in your closet, even under the bed - anywhere in your ordinary every day life, but most notably in the recesses of your mind's subconscious. Jonathan Crane knew that all his life even before he went off to college and became professor of psychology. He faced his own monsters from his past before he became a man and took care of his abusive, religious fanatic of a grandmother, took his revenge on the parents who abandoned him, and then onward to anyone else in his path until the Batman exposed him. He lost everything he had, his life's work, but that was corrected as he was admitted to Arkham. He found more enlightenment amongst the criminally insane.

They knew nothing about him, labeled him and pumped him full of meds that did nothing to him; HE was the genius, not them. He knew it better than those fools.

And _she_ knew it.

Once, he shared a bed instead of having one all to himself in his straw-littered cell in the asylum. A warm, comfortable bed with a soft body to sleep beside and hold close to his own. Soft skin smelling sweeter than anything else that he could never forget, even dream of at night when they were restless. She had been there when he was arrested, his verdict being insanity and sent here on Arkham. She was there from beginning to end. He had known her since he was a student at Gotham State, going for psychology while she studied surgery. After graduation, he did not see her again until he became a professor at his alma mater and as a psychiatrist at Arkham for a second, part-time job. She had been called in regarding the case of a patient, and that had begun something more than friendship on their parts. She knew him better than anyone else ever did.

Crane sighed to himself as he laid in his uncomfortable bed, looking up at the ceiling, holding his beloved burlap sack close to his heart, fingers clenching the rough fabric until his knuckles turned white as the one name slipped from his lips in his solitary.

 _Aurora._

His Aurora - his wife, first and only equal in his thirty-five years of life.

His only reason for living, for making his lonely existence meaningful.

She could have left him, but she didn't. She remained married to him despite his status becoming criminal, and for that, she was called crazy as he was. Everyone around her said she was insane to remain tied to him. "He's a monster," they said. "He poisons innocents, scares them at night for his own sick pleasure."

Damn them for condemning her as he was.

He rolled onto his side, turning his back to the world and to the guards passing by, from Dr. Young and Dr. Kellerman, and think about her only. Aurora was the one important thing in his life besides his fear toxin. She did not cooperate with him, but she was aware of it and didn't try to stop him. She could might as well be labeled an accomplice just by being aware of his activities, but she lied and said she was innocent to this, which he was blessed for. He did not want her on the level he was now. He took the fall just for her.

But once Joker's plan was completed and he had his army with the help of the poor Penelope Young, then Scarecrow had all the subjects in the world; he would walk free from this place once again and go back to his wife who had promised to wait for him.

 _"His research appears to be the only motivating factor in his life."_

 _BAH! Kellerman thinks so, but he has a wife, does he not? Children, too. He ought to know that I am not evil, that I am not insane. I can love like he - but he just married Margaret because he fears dying alone._ That was the solution he was not a fool to. Stephen knew nothing of Jonathan's heart. His heart was no one else's business to know; it was not theirs to know as his weakness.

Between him and her alone.

He remembered the first day they met. At the time, he was nearing graduation and she had just arrived as a new fresh face, assigned to him as her new lab partner.

~o~

 _"Oh, hello. Are you...Jonathan Crane?"_

 _He looked up from his book in Professor Geers' classroom; he was always the first one here, and even though he was almost out of here after six painful years, old habits died hard. The voice was soft and feminine, but also confident. However, upon looking at the face, he felt himself recoil a little as he shifted back in his seat and sat straighter as he looked at the young woman sitting beside him. For the last several years, no one ever looked at him or even sat beside him. No one shoved him around anymore, but people still talked about him._

 _No one ever smiled at him, but she was._

 _Her face was oval-shaped, set with bow-shaped lips and ivory skin flushed at the cheeks. Her hair was long and dark blonde with lighter streaks, the left side tucked behind that ear and exposing an earring of three golden coins jingling - looking at that closely, it looked like it could have come from the Ottoman Empire period, both glamorous and intriguing. She was dressed in a soft pink and silver plaid shirt slightly opened to show her necklace over her heart - a heart of gold surrounded with diamonds. He tore his eyes from her chest and saw her lean legs hugged with peal-gray denims. Her left wrist which rested on that thigh was wrapped with a bracelet of beaded gold and a large crystal._

 _But it was not her appearance that captivated him. It was her_ eyes _\- they were green, vivid and crystalline, like his own. It was true they were windows to the soul, and Jonathan did not see any form of faux politeness, pretense and manipulation as all the other women in his life did. She was very sincere and honest._

 _Her right hand, wrist with another bracelet - this being a stretching cuff of tiger's eye and wood in a pattern - and on her third finger a ring of blush in both the band and its middle stone, extended out, but he stared at it for a second before realizing that she just wanted to shake his hand. Her nails were French-tipped and painted a soft pink, bordering on cotton candy. She was no different from the appearances of other blonde girls, but from the depths of her eyes, he could already see she was. He had purposefully avoided all contact with women for obvious reasons, but when was the last time someone looked at him the way she was now?_

 _"Who's asking?" he asked at last, finishing his analyzing. She grinned, showing a mouthful of pearly whites._

 _"I'm Aurora. Aurora Mathews. It's my first year."_

 _"You must be asking for trouble coming to a challenging class like psychology." He looked down at her still-outstretched hand and gave it a sniff. "Is that why you came here?"_

 _Her smile faded, and her hand withdrew back to her lap. "Not exactly. I intend to be a surgeon, I have good hands - but mentality interests me, too."_

 _Jonathan found himself impressed, but also found it hard to believe._ A surgeon - a lovely lady like you with the likes of digging into the muscles, bones and innards when you got the delicacy of a dove? _He blinked. Where did that come from?_

 _This was why he paid no attention to women: distractions. Her perfume filled his nose, too; it smelled of Moroccan argan oils along with vanilla, and soft flowers. But somehow, it was naturally sweet, nothing unpleasant. But he never let anything soften him. "Miss Mathews, fascinating. But I have to say I favor the mind above the body."_

 _She nodded, lips pursing. "You think it's better than the body. Huh!" She shook her head, her long curls swishing. "The body is the reason to live; our minds will always be the last to go, but death is not what I look forward to," she said fiercely. "You know, I only intended to introduce myself, not get into an early argument with a graduate like yourself."_

 _"Almost graduate," he corrected her, waving a finger in her face while the fingers of his other hand drummed absently on the cover of his book. "I wonder why Dr. Geers assigned a freshman to a Masters anyways."_

 _"He must have thought one of his top students would help guide me in the subject. Simple as that."_

Oh, wonderful, _he thought._ A graduating student assigned with a new fish in the sea. I look forward to a great last year, indeed.

~o~

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. They got off to a rocky start, but as the months went by, Aurora Mathews became the first thing in his life to lighten his days and nights. She also helped him out with the development - theory wise as well as formula, but never actual chemical - on the early version of his very own hallucinogen.

They were just friends for that year until he graduated with his PhD, and her first year was over. She was on her own, too. But when Jonathan left, he felt the hollow in his being return. But he might not see her anymore, anyway. Moving on was moving on.

Or so he thought at the time.

He was twenty-five by the time he met Aurora Mathews again - now Dr. Aurora Mathews. To think that he had once thought she'd waste her potential, but oh, how wrong he had been. He never admitted he was wrong to anyone but to himself, and to her. He had been working at Arkham on a Saturday when she came, regarding the situation of one of the mid-level patients who needed a bone marrow transplant and had the coverage despite being locked away in the institution. She had not changed at all, but she had begun wearing her hair clipped behind her head. Dr. Crane could still recall her fierce smile and charm, her snark when someone questioned her - not at all different from him. When they first made eye contact, it was like old times already caught up. She was a surgeon intern and two more years short of graduation herself, excelling faster than him somehow, not that he envied her.

Aurora had been the first to ask him out, if you could count coffee as a first date, and a year went by before Jonathan realized with her how short life was; he'd been nearing thirty and realized he was missing something. His fear toxin and understanding what fears drove each individual made him happy but only did so much.

They were married in the botanical gardens of the city, in a Japanese zen garden, the happiest day of their lives. Aurora Mathews became Aurora _Crane_ , and Jonathan Crane felt complete. Five years of peace and love gone by - until he was fired from the university and eventually losing his license. Everything revoked, and it was down to the last straw.

She had been asked to divorce him despite refusing to. She could have left, but she didn't. Jonathan felt he did not deserve her anymore after he was exposed by the Batman, the past five years of their lives together coming to an end - if that was true, then he would have found means to bide time until he found a way to continue his experiments in secret until he resurfaced again.

~o~

 _"Aurora."_

 _"Hello, Jonathan."_

 _He stood before her, standing to the side of the glass blocking close connection from the woman he loved, who had paid him an unexpected visit. He had not seen her in days, not since the insanity verdict, and no telling how long he would be here. They would not break him; he would show them in return what fear was truly like: sweet it would taste, and susceptible they would be to it. "You shouldn't be here."_

 _She frowned at him. "Is that a way to treat your wife?" She was in a long, pleated white blouse and tight trousers, her hair wild and free, just for him. He had been spared from removing that clip she wore to work every day every time they met - or should he say, robbed?_

 _She had it in her to accuse him of treating her like a stranger! "I'm sorry, but how can we resume what we have while I am here and everything is taken from me?" Jonathan asked coolly._

 _She huffed. "Jonathan, you talk as though I don't matter anymore."_

 _He took a small step back. "Of course you matter to me!"_

 _"Keep your voice down," she hissed. "Jonathan, I don't care what you did. I love you, but what you did got you in this place, took you from me. Who knows how long you will be in here, maybe for the rest of your life as I have known people who get committed to asylums and have their lives taken from them." Jonathan closed his eyes at her words; of course he was well aware of that, too. But he knew what he had been doing, and he regretted not covering his tracks so well - but that was also the Batman's fault. He was as good as he could get. That was why Crane now intended to see more of him again in the future, see if he could get a glimpse of what scared the almighty Caped Crusader at night..._

 _"I want you out of here instead of breaking out, prolonging things and making them harder."_

 _He almost gasped before he held it in. It sounded like she was asking him to give up his life so he could get out of here. What would he do then, hm? Find some mediocre job that did so much at a time? His green eyes locked with hers. "Aurora, what then, eh?" he seethed. "My formula was my life, and the damned rodent is no different than the fools who didn't understand me. He threw me in here, and I'll never see you again unless whenever you are called for surgery if anyone else could even be covered for it. My chances of that are very slim."_

 _Her hands were on her hips. "What about me, then, besides work? Jonathan, I still love you so much, but your work is all you seem to care about now. From the looks of it, you'll never leave after all." The streaks of shining tears rolled down her cheeks now. "Was all we had for the last five years worth nothing? Was I just a...substitute for this toxin of yours? You never loved me, did you?"_

 _Now Jonathan could gasp. His Aurora doubted his love for her, and it was NOT true! "No!" He quickly moved forward, placing both hands on the glass pleadingly. "Aurora Crane, that is NOT true! You're the world to me, the only good thing that ever happened to me. I never took you for granted, ever," he swore, then lowered his voice. "My angel, I'll do whatever you want me to do, but you must know that I will do everything I can to get out of here. I'm just like you; I have a job to do - fear is my life, as you care about the dying and injured who come to you every day. I have a job to do, and if I can't go back to the normal life I once had, then this will be my career now."_

 _Her lips quivered, and he could now see the mixture of anger and sorrow in her eyes - as well as understanding in his decision. "You're a criminal now, Jonathan. You're choosing to go against the law now, to continue your research." She nodded numbly and brusquely. "You're never going to give up your fascination with fear."_

 _Jonathan sighed heavily. "Afraid not."_

 _Her tear-streaked face was before the glass now, the bridge of her nose gently pressing against it. She brought her left hand, the hand which still held the fairytale symbol of a wedding ring he gave her years ago in front of their colleagues and patients. "If that's the way it is, then I'll never leave you, Jonathan. Everyone is expecting me to file for divorce, but I won't do it. They don't understand you like me. I'll gladly wait for you to come back to me for however long it takes."_

~o~

"Too late now, Batman!" he called over to the Dark Knight, who turned around and saw him standing there with his bag of the poison, ready to go into the sewer to spread all over Gotham and reach the poor souls' minds upon contact. Chuckling, Scarecrow advanced backwards with the bag over the underground river. "One step closer and _this_ goes into the water," he warned. "The cave will fill with your deepest, darkest nightmares - and you will never reach your precious Venom roots!" He had to cackle over this; how exhilarating it would be, given this amount of toxin was enough to drive one hundred men insane. It would be a beautiful sight to behold, indeed.

Batman stepped away from the great roots of the plant that was used in the Venom-Titan formula, baring his teeth as he growled, "Don't do it, Crane!"

 _Oh, but I can and I WILL!_ However, before he could say this, he heard a ferocious growl behind him and instantly knew Croc was here - and he was not happy that his watery lair was about to be tampered with. Or perhaps he thought it was a guard or someone else - he did not have time to answer that before the beast roared and sprung from the water and had poor Scarecrow in his grasp.

His hold lost on his precious bag, which fell to the ground, Jonathan screamed uncontrollably as he fought out of the grasp of Croc, whose jaws were wide open and ready to have their next meal... _Aurora, I'm so sorry! Please, forgive me! I love you! So much left unsaid...!_

Those deadly jaws never reached his side, or anything of Jonathan, because the next thing he knew, he was pulled into the water, his nostrils and mouth smothered and blocked from air. Now he knew he might drown - but not if he could at least try to get away from the reptile man...

He heard himself scream under water when pain ripped at his face, the searing in his skin and muscles coming to fruition, and he squirmed to get away from the beast. His plans were foiled once again, so there had to be one other solution, and that was to get away. IF he could. Crane howled, still underwater, the agony in his face lingering, and he could barely see in the darkness. He might as well die here, at thirty-five years old and lost of his ripe years -

 _NO! NO NONO NONONO! Don't think of death, Crane, you fool! Think of HER! You made a promise you'd return to her; honor that!_

Honor it, yes. But first, he had to find means of navigating the sewers, but Croc had him still in his grasp. Never did he think he'd ever be in this predicament. Killer Croc was the story of nightmares, and how true it was. But he hadn't let his fear get the best of him since he was a child.

Suddenly, the feel of claws around him released, as it appeared that Croc's attention returned to the Batman in his lair. Relieved, Jonathan could breathe a sigh of relief - if only reality did not kick in and he was still underwater, as well as the fact his lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen. Willing them to hold on for a little longer, Jonathan began to kick and swim for the surface, only to hit his head against hard wood, groaning and realizing it was a plank. Floating forward, he eventually found freedom and gasped sharply as he was overcome with precious life air in his lungs -

\- as well as the pain on his face again. Namely his nose and mouth, including his left eye, in which he assumed one of Croc's claws damaged an optic nerve. What damage had been done to him?

He looked around and knew that he could not stay here, that the Bat was sure to find him again - or worse, Croc. He had to hurry as well as keep quiet with his footsteps given that Croc could find his prey based on vibrations of the planks, even from miles away. You never knew when he'd come. Crane would not risk going underwater again.

Thankfully, he did not wear shoes as it made it easier for him to glide over planks and water, turn direction after direction, ignoring the pain in his entire face, but upon looking down his bared torso as well as feeling his mask stick hotly to his skin besides from the smelling sewer water -

 _Blood_.

By the time he noticed this, he found a cavern entrance and a place to stop from fleeing the Bat and the croc. He needed to catch a breath anyway - and to finally see what happened to his face. He reached to unstrap his glove of syringes from his hand and laid it on the ground at his feet, then reached to unfasten his hood before reaching to pull his mask off.

He could not remember screaming so loud in his life at the excruciating burst of fire in his system as he pulled the burlap from his visage and held it in front of him to see that it was soaked with his life's blood. Bits of flesh were clinging to it, too. _My flesh and blood._

What was additionally worse: he could not see that well through his left eye. He was now partially blind. _Perfect, just perfect._

There was no mirror, but the water in front of him would have to do, as there was some lighting enough for his right eye to bear. But when Jonathan leaned over and saw his reflection - what was left of it - his heart fell with what was left of his sanity, and he raised his fist to splash the water to ripple away that hideous reflection before throwing his head back and howling high enough to bounce off the cave walls - echoing his despair and shame.

He looked like a monster to his own eyes.

What would Aurora think if she saw him? What would she say?

Crane continued to scream and scream, falling to his side and curling up, forgetting who and where he was for the moment. Just the pain in his face as well as the pain in his heart as to how his wife would think of him when she saw him.

 **I never played the game, just watched it as a whole movie on YouTube. :) My boyfriend is the game player, and he also loves Scarecrow as much as I do. And no one needs to worry if this story will be abandoned. I ALWAYS complete my stories.**

 **Anyways, read and review. Appreciated.**


	2. Remember When It Rained

**Now you all get to see his injuries, in explicit detail and lots of gore. Also, chapter named for the song I mentioned in the last one, and now you get to see it. :D**

 **Croc really did a number on the poor man, if anyone hasn't seen his look in Arkham Knight yet. John Noble did a fantastic job voicing him after Dino; I remember Noble as Lord Denethor in "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King" and as Unicron in "Transformers Prime". His voice and acting are equally chilling.**

Chapter Two

Remember When It Rained

He could not look at himself anymore, continued his wailing in agony before he managed to pull himself together. He sat on his knees, his head lowered, tears pouring down his cheeks. He had not cried since he was a boy; he never once cried in front of Aurora, either, as his dignity stood like all men.

He was hideous.

Grotesque.

A _monster._

If anyone could stand to look at the gory meat of a mess at those parts of his face. His nose was broken, shriveled might as well be for there was nothing much of it left except grinds of meat as though having come from a butcher's shredder. His lips were also the product of said butchery; they were one of his most prized parts that he saw useless, that he would no longer be able to kiss his beloved with. Might as well tear his whole face off now, show nothing but muscles and sinew, pulpy red meats and important blood vessels. Mark him as a form of Frankenstein's monster if not seven feet tall as the fiend. Just tear him apart until nothing was left of Jonathan Crane.

He took a few deep breaths through his mouth as gently as he could. Breathing through his nose at the moment was painful enough. And then, gingerly, he reached for his mask and gauntlet before turning to walk through the cavern behind him.

But when he stood, more excruciating pain coursed through his body, beginning with his left leg. It felt like the bone was broken, or maybe if a muscle was pulled and could not be fixed permanently. He would need a brace or something for this.

If he managed to survive without dying of blood loss, then he would find someplace to lay low, try to think of how to fix what was left of himself up and then plan his revenge.

 _You did this to me Batman. And for that, you and ALL of Gotham will pay for this._

He should have placed the blame on Killer Croc, too, for the demon mauled what little of his beautiful face - yes, he meant every word of it - and he should have gassed him, but it might not have worked on the reptile man. He would have killed Crane in a flash. But no matter; retribution for that would come sometime soon.

There was only one person he knew he could go to for rebuilding his face, but it would not be easy.

~o~

"Dr. Crane, report to the emergency room."

 _He looked up from the paperwork and sighed. Arkham had the need for an emergency ward as it was practically its own island when patients were in need of surgical care, unable to be transferred to Gotham General. Their assigned therapists were always present as consultants; it was a damned shame Dr. Jonathan Crane had to be one of them._

 _"I'll be there," he murmured even though no one was near his parameters. He stood and put his pen down, then grabbed his lab coat and pulled it over his tan suit and mahogany tie, smoothing his dark brown hair out and marching out of his office._

 _The decrepit lighting and walls could easily scare the average citizen and the most lowdown member of the staff, but it did not scare Jonathan Crane. He felt warm and welcome here, amongst the accessed test subjects that were his patients. These men and women were too insane to ever be let loose back into society; even the most corrupt officials knew that. The Batman himself must know that - or did he? He never seemed to stop using his fist to delve into the problem, and that was why Dr. Crane was interested in studying the mysterious Caped Crusader. He was said to fear nothing, almighty crusader of so-called justice...how much would it take for him to eventually kill his targets? The Bat never killed, but he left marks._

 _His patient was a man not much younger than he was, having a long history of self-esteem and the quenching belief that he was never meant to be independent. His domineering mother had been struck down by his own hand - accidental, but due to his instability brought on by years of sheltering, Arkham had been his verdict. Hallucinations telling him to kill his mother being the keyword, not uncommon._

 _His mental instability as well as the fear of women - gynephobia, sometimes spelled as gynophobia - prevented him from being treated by a female doctor or even a nurse. Crane chuckled as he recalled their sessions in the basement laboratory. To think it was at first confused with caligynephobia, of beautiful women to an extent. Alan Grafe was twenty-four years old when he thought he could overcome his fear by fighting back his mother once and for all, but he never intended to kill her. But she was not the only problem: other women in general. Mr. Grafe was often wracked with tremors and heartrate picking up every time he saw a beautiful female in his short-lived youthful social life. In high school, his first girlfriend - and the last - had been very rough with him when he tried to make her happy and failed, utterly destroying his confidence. His mother had done the last of the damage, claiming no one would ever love him as she did._

 _Grafe did not interact with other women after this incident, nor did he even try to pursue a homosexual relationship, which his mother called an abomination; somehow this reminded Dr. Crane of his religious grandmother, which made him sympathize to some extent, but he did not let the sympathy rule his judgment. This was a subject to be understood and no more._

 _It was always he to personally take care of the man, or at least have a male orderly administer the daily doses into Alan's IV. Female nurses always made him scream and thrash, chaos following, that it took efforts to sedate him. Now he had the need for a bone marrow transplant. He had been sick for a year and might die in this place, but he was still young with some hope, according to Dr. Young. She was not a surgeon, but she knew one at Gotham General to call in to the asylum. Jonathan remembered sneering to her when she thought Grafe could have hopes of being released._

 _"Jonathan, fear is your specialty," she argued hotly. "You should know then that there is hope to cure it. Have you even started exposing him to women more and more, besides medication and drugs, isolating him to men only?"_

 _"How dare you question me, Penelope? I thought it his best interests. He has not deteriorated by far -"_

 _"But now he is due to die in another year or so if we don't get him the transplant. You don't call that deterioration? I spoke to Warden Sharp, and he agrees that Mr. Grafe needs treatment. He might not care about the 'scum', but I do. I called a friend from the general hospital, and she will be here in two days as soon as she completes surgical transplants on two current patients. As his therapist, Jonathan, you are more than welcome to be the consultant."_

 _"Well, he is MY patient, so I have the right to be," he snapped. "Very well, Doctor. I shall look forward to meeting you...friend."_

 _"Dr. Mathews is her name."_

 _He arrived at the site of the side of the bed Alan Grafe was laid in, attacked with needles and hydration fluids as he lay sedated by the time Dr. Crane looked him over. Brown hair, though mussed unlike his own. If his eyes were open now, they were muddy brown. His skin was tinted gray with sickness. Jonathan had known something was wrong the moment he first noticed the symptoms months ago, but Alan had been too frightened to tell him. It was a miracle his fear toxin never interfered and killed him on the first spot._

Dr. Mathews...

 _He completely lost the chance to ask Penelope who Dr. Mathews was, having a slight idea but decided it was not important at the present. He would meet her soon enough. Today was Thursday, and the operation was schedule in the morning of Saturday. He worked full days on weekends at Arkham, so he had the time to swing._

 _And when the day came, he thought his world had begun spinning._

 _He went to the surgery, observing from the window and watching out of curiosity, a part of him hoping the man would make it as he still possessed a sense of morality to keep a man or woman living and breathing. He had not killed since his grandmother. And as he watched the team of surgeons in their teal green garb prep the tools and put the patient under, another face arrived on the set. Blonde hair piled underneath the cap, white mouth mask over her face - Dr. Mathews arrived. He never got the chance to meet her face-to-face, but there she was. He could partially hear her through the glass window._

 _"...patient is under. Are we ready to begin?"_

 _Her voice sounded familiar...and then his brain clicked when he finally noticed her eyes - they were crystal green shining with so much life and fire._ Aurora. It's her.

 _Aurora Mathews!_

 _She'd become a surgeon after all. He had not seen her for almost two years; she could not be a fully licensed surgeon yet, unless she was an intern now and a rather damned brilliant one at that. How many people could do that?_

 _And as far as he could tell, she had not changed at all aside from her hair out of her face. Something about her now..._

 _He shook his head out of the thoughts. "Jonathan?"_

 _"Penelope." Crane turned his attention to the person beside him. "What can I do for you?"_

 _She was smirking. "Watching her, aren't you? Aurora is a very good friend - and pretty, too? Coming from a girl like me." She winked, making him roll his eyes and snort._

 _"I knew her once," Jonathan said finally, turning his attention back to her and watched as she and her team began to work, hardly a gory mess made which was remarkable. "I began my final year at state and she began her first year." He chuckled and shook his head. "Ironic, isn't it? One's end is another's beginning."_

 _"Oh, you two used to...?"_

 _"No, we were just friends, Penny. I was never interested in women, you know that."_

 _She huffed the same way Aurora used to do. "Why am I not surprised?" Her mouth then twitched before forming a wide smile. "But you seem to be taken with Aurora. She's single just like you are." He stiffened and could not look at her. It was like she was trying to set them up! He found the will to finally look down at her and let his lip pull back._ Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong again, are you, Penny? _his mind sneered, the words slipping out of his mouth similar._

 _"If I was interested, then I'd be the one to ask her of my own will."_

 _She scoffed. "I doubt it. You're too...disinterested to ask her yourself. She might as well be the one to ask you herself, since she knows how you were not like other men she's met. I told her so myself about you."_

~o~

This was a maze he had come through. He was losing blood and needed to stop it. If he didn't quench it soon, he would get weaker and weaker.

He had no idea where he was now as he never came down this part of beneath the island. He grimaced as he dragged himself on one leg, trying not to add too much to the breaking. But maybe he could find something down here while he searched for the main sewer into the bay. GCPD must be surrounding the island by now, so it proved to be an even greater challenge to get away from here and into the city. He had long ways to go without being caught - and without surviving losing blood and his muscles ruined.

A collection of barrels was rested against the exposed stone wall; the tunnel stretched for some yards to go. When Jonathan stopped at the barrels, he saw a rag - long enough for him to wrap around his face. His eye was no longer bleeding, and he was still losing blood in his nose and mouth, subsiding as it was. Setting down his gauntlet and gore-covered mask, he picked up the rag and wrapped it around the lower half of his face. The exposed muscles and skin didn't sear again, but if this was left neglected any longer, he could die from infection alone. He needed to get to her soon, no matter his leg injured. He picked up his weapons and hurried on, grunting when his leg shot through every now and then.

~o~

 _The door to his office was knocked on. "Yes?" he called, raising an impatient eyebrow while trying to keep the tone from his voice._

 _The door opened, and he almost jumped up in surprise at the sight of his visitor. "Long time no see, Dr. Crane."_

 _"Dr. Mathews." He rose and bowed his head forward. "Indeed it has been."_

 _Aurora Mathews looked him over with a slight smile. Her lab coat was gone, showing that she was dressed in a lavender shrug over a glittering tank as well as tight white trousers and short heels. She still wore the same jewelry, and her nails were still French-tipped but painted lavender. Her sense of fashion had not changed in the slightest._ Or did I really want her to? _"Penelope said that you worked here now. But I could have sworn you were a professor now at GSU," she stated, a brow raising._

 _Jonathan nodded. "I do, but I am full time here on the weekends. This gives me more than what teaching gives me," he told her with a smile that she returned, closing the door behind her._

 _"You're finally taking that theory of yours and bringing it to life?"_

 _He chuckled and motioned for her to sit in front of his desk, in the chair for patients and visitors. She sat down, folding her hands in her lap and keeping her legs together even though she was wearing pants and not a skirt. That was always one of the things he admired about her, her way of being proper no matter what - and being a naughty girl when it was just the two of them. She never made advances on him, no, but sometimes Crane could have sworn her words were laced suggestively at times._

 _He leaned backwards and smiled, folding his hands over the surface of his desk. "I certainly have, Aurora. The criminally insane have been extra help for the study of fear. They possess more...complex mysteries as to what drives their motivations and actions. Remember we used to talk about this?" he asked slyly, smirking to one corner of his mouth._

 _"And it's still one of our oldest arguments. The body survives more than the mind."_

 _Jonathan gritted his teeth but did not allow his face to change to match how he festered internally. "I see no point in arguing with you again, Aurora. It's been, what? Almost two years? And now here you are, on Arkham Island and in front of my desk, talking to me again after the success in saving my patient, a gynephobe."_

 _Aurora inhaled and exhaled sharply. "He was afraid of me as soon as he saw me, but I thank you and Penny for telling me what was wrong with him. It...unnerves me that he is so detached from women all his life except two times..." She trailed off there, not being a psychiatrist like he._

 _"Indeed. His teenage love who betrayed him as well as his overbearing mother," Crane agreed. "Perhaps Dr. Young was right; I should start having him around you more often, have him around the nurses more often now so he can learn to get more...comfortable around females." A part of him was not doing this out of the kindness of his heart; it was so the nagging Penelope would not pester him about Alan anymore. This wasn't the first time, either._

 _Aurora nodded. "That might help. You're his doctor, after all," she said with a grin. "You know better than me. I am just his surgeon, and I just saved his life."_

 _Jonathan looked off to the side. Alan Grafe was going to live longer, but that meant he would still be in Arkham. His mind was too broken to be fixed, the reality was clear, but that would be no surprise throughout Arkham. "You did; you're a miracle worker, even though I don't know if I believe them."_

 _"You should. Miracle is the best word."_

 _He sniffed in distaste, and then his attention shifted to the clock. "Forgive me, but I'm seeing my next patient soon. Should you be going back to the hospital?"_

 _She stood as though she did not want to leave so soon. Come to think of it, he didn't want her to go. "I suppose I should. But, Jonathan..."_

 _He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" She gave him a crack of a grin._

 _"Would you be up for coffee sometime? Catch up on old times? Anything to make up for leaving me so soon..."_

 _Crane cleared his throat._ There goes another. _"Aurora," he said coolly, standing behind his desk, "I would be honored to, but I'm afraid my schedule is so tight I don't know if I will ever have the time -"_

 _She laughed and waved her hand. "Silly man, there is always time. I have a trick or two up my sleep to speak to Warden Sharp. He won't be able to say no to me."_

 _"Excuse me, but you're still the same...flirtatious minx you were in college."_

 _"Some things never change," Aurora answered sweetly, walking around his desk and then moving up to wrap her arms around his neck, leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek. He could have stopped her, shoved it off as inappropriate and unprofessional, but no one else was looking. She used to do this to him when they were alone in school, too._ Just like old times.

 _Something was also telling him something he had witnessed but never took seriously at the time: Aurora Mathews had a case of...infatuation for Jonathan Crane, and barely two years of separation did not change that._

~o~

Miles to go and he had finally found the end of the tunnel and into a vast sea, diving and holding his breath with what strength left he had in his lungs. He had one eye to see when he managed his way beneath cold, dark waters but rays of silvery blue light mingled with gray and black, his body aching with each stroke and dive to keep from being seen. His face was no longer throbbing, but it was still in pain. This water was cleaner than Killer Croc's filth, vaster and allowing him to navigate away from the island for freedom -

\- and upon bursting from the surface to grab onto a crate that had somehow found its way into the sea, he coughed and sputtered as he looked ahead of him, seeing that he was outside and distances away from Arkham Asylum - the island period - and then behind him to see he was still a mile or so away from Gotham City.

He was in the bay.

Jonathan took a few breaths as he sighed with such relief that he was still alive. The plan had not changed - he would find his wife, get himself fixed the best he could, and then lay low to keep her safe so he could rebuild himself and the fear toxin. He intended to let it all out on the city, far more than Batman ever anticipated, but he had no extent as to contacts just yet. His life depended first than his work; how could he complete his mission if he was dead?

 _Aurora...I'm coming home._

 _Wash away the thoughts inside_  
 _That keep my mind away from you_  
 _No more love and no more pride_  
 _And thoughts are all I have to do_

Crane bowed his head, holding his breath and trying to keep himself from shaking. He was getting colder to the bone. What did he expect? He was half-dressed in rags, mostly skin exposed, wounded, and in the bay when he needed to get to the city. It would take a damned miracle - he hated the word but she never did - to get there soon.

He looked up at the sky upon hearing the thunder roll. It was beginning to rain, as some drops hit the water and began to increase in numbers. His clammy flesh felt the tender pelting; the fall wasn't heavy, but he could barely feel it any more than he did now.

 _Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained_  
 _Felt the ground and looked up high_  
 _And called your name_  
 _Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained_  
 _In the darkness I remain_

 _"In the darkness I remain..."_ he quoted breathlessly, the song ringing through his memory that Aurora loved so much, introduced to him after their first date. It was raining that night, played in her car as she drove them home. He was never one to go back and analyze songs or their messages except on rare occasions, and this happened to be one. Jonathan thought the irony of this one line in particular, or should he say the entire chorus, referencing him in his current predicament. He allowed himself to drift through the bay towards the city, knowing he would find a dock somehow, perhaps a boat, and climb aboard. Just be patient for a little longer...

~o~

 _How had they gotten here? They had been together for a year, but it seemed they were more than just friends. He would not pretend he didn't notice how much closer they had gotten. If there was anything life taught him, it was that you should never let an opportunity slip past you. You get only one shot at true happiness. Life was too short to let any time be taken; twenty-six years old was proof of that._

 _Here they were now, in the park on a summer day. He looked her over, taking in the flowing red kimono gracing her luscious curves as well as the tight, red dragon printed jeans, her hair flowing over her shoulders and glowing brighter under the sun - poetic and clichéd, but true all the same. Jonathan could not think of how to tell her the depth of his feelings without fearing rejection; another part of his mind asked him how she would ever reject him?_

 _"Aurora, I need to tell you something," he started, but as soon as he looked up at her again, she was leaning towards him - and her lips touched his for the first time. In that moment, all his anxieties were washed away by that simple soft contact._

~o~

So, he'd found a dock and climbed with all his might. They lived a good enough distance to keep a balance between Arkham Island and Gotham General, which was still ways to go. Gasping and panting, his numb body getting feeling back but his leg still shooting with agony through the bone and muscles. No blood there, but it was serious. He could not walk any further in Gotham without finding something for support, as well as finding some clothing to replace his tattered costume. His mask needed to be redone, anyways.

Either way, he made it to Gotham. _Almost there._

The rain did not stop, but his tears began to pour down his cheeks. Tears of pain as well as hope.

 _Tears of hope run down my skin_  
 _Tears for you that will not dry_  
 _They magnify the one within_  
 _And let the outside slowly die_

Jonathan found a fallen wooden pole that could work as a substitute for a cane for the time being. He hoisted it under his elbow and began to limp his way through the downtown of Gotham facing the bay. If there was any old garments that could disguise himself for now until he got home, in a dumpster or something. Anything was better than nothing at all, and it would do well to hide who he really was - except for the gauntlet and syringes which could very much give him away.

 _Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained_  
 _Felt the ground and looked up high_  
 _And called your name_  
 _Ohhhhhh Remember when it rained_  
 _In the water I remain_

 **R and R! :)**


	3. Valentine Bride

**A couple more chapters left and then we draw to a close. Somehow this pays a homage to one of my favorite fics by my friend Vytina, "Cold Eyes, Yearning Soul", from BTAS.**

Chapter Three

Valentine Bride

 _"When are you going to ask her, Jonathan?"_

 _"When the time is right, Penelope," he answered coolly as he looked up from the patient file of an Annabeth Coles, a case of the fear of being touched - numerous names being aphenphosmphobia, haphenphobia/haptephobia, and commonly chiraptophobia. He had yet to find out whether she suffered sexual abuse or somehow knew someone who had. At least, a form of touching contact. "But I am not the man who gives flowers first and then gets on my knees to ask her to marry me," he said, both brows creasing in a frown._

 _"You're something else, Jonathan. If you want to do this the right way, flowers and then the ring will be the answer," Young stated, cracking a grin. "I haven't been with someone in a damned while, but take it from me, Jonny -" He hissed and reeled back, loathing the boyish nickname, but she ignored him. "- you want to impress the girl, flowers and then place in the ring inside to surprise her. How does that sound? Something soft and feminine, enough to show her that you mean it all."_

 _Jonathan's hands slammed on the surface of the desk. "Of course I mean everything, Penny," he said in agitation, though in his mind, he was taking her advice. What else could he do? He somehow wanted to do this the right way. He quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. It's been a...rough day."_

 _"Rough day," she repeated, nodding. "Don't we all have them?" She laughed. "I'll just close my yap and leave you be then. Hope what I said helps, though." The door closed behind her, leaving Jonathan alone to his thoughts._

 _Three weeks later, the plans were settled. It was Wednesday, but he had no classes to teach today, and Arkham did not need him, either. But today, he had it all prepared and brought them to the asylum as she'd called him and told him she was coming in for another patient's surgery, and had time to visit him afterwards. He certainly looked forward to it. He could not control his pounding heartbeat._

 _The flowers were soft pink roses paired with white lilies as well as sprays of baby's breath. Deep within the confides of greenery was the surprise she might find on her own - if not, he could at least attempt a hint of getting her attention. Holding them to his nose, Jonathan felt like he was a bit lighter to the senses. He held them close to himself for a few moments before setting them down on his desk. He had to get these for her soon before they died, he knew that for sure._

 _Her latest suffered a kidney infection and needed a new one. He waited until she was finished near the end of the day, waiting outside the door and not caring others were watching him, the sweet flowers held to him - the first and only sign of sweetness in this dreary place. Where did you even see flora anywhere? But these were for the one person he knew could give life to the dying - and in this entire place._

 _"Oh, Jonathan!" She looked up at him, smiling upon finding him as she was leaving, still wearing her surgeon robe but the mask and hat removed. "She's going to make it, as usual," Aurora said cheerfully, rubbing her hands together. Then her attention fell to the way he held his right arm behind him, frowning then. "Jon...are you hiding something?"_

 _His posture went rigid. No sense in making an excuse or hiding it any longer, he sucked in his breath and held out the bouquet to her. "Yes."_

 _Her green eyes went wide. "Jonathan, they're gorgeous." She took them and held them to her face, inhaling their sweet fragrance - and then something fell to the ground at their feet. He watched, heart thumping, as she bent down to pick up the small navy velvet bag which measured to be as wide as her palm. Jonathan reached and took it from her, pulling the string and dumped the contents into his palm. The ring glittered with pure enchantment in his palm; sterling silver, the crown of the band was an intricate work of vines and leaves, centered with a single round diamond. Her eyes went wide at the sight, and looked up at him, her eyes telling him the answer which he already knew._

 _And everyone was watching, even calling out to them, urging her to say yes. When she did, she leaned up and kissed him, wrapped her arms around his neck, the flowers forgotten and falling to the floor behind them, some soft petals scattering and adding color to the cold charcoal and black floor._

~o~

The rain got heavier and heavier, his body getting number each moment, but eventually he happened upon one of the most abandoned areas of Gotham, and there was a great number of the homeless here. He would settle on finding something here to replace his tattered costume.

Crane found shelter to pause, his legs getting tired, including his injured one. He leaned over the makeshift cane and took some deep breaths, sighing heavily. He held himself straight, his gauntlet tucked under his arm and his mask around it to prevent any of the needles sticking his skin. Perhaps he could use this, though. If there was a chance - and it was a definite possibility - that he could encounter a homeless man and take his garments, whatever he could, maybe a few more if any parts suited him...

He closed both of his eyes but kept the partially blind one opened as it gave him a sense of remaining alert. He wished that Aurora was here; her body against his made him feel more heat than his form by itself could give him. Jonathan stretched out his undamaged leg to get some circulation going through. He looked up at the dark sky, soft gray cloud lines popping against black and charcoal, and silver sheens pouring down onto him, cleaning everything in their paths and even ruining some - just as it tried to cleanse the scum of the city streets only to make it messier. Poetic and truer words never spoken.

He enjoyed the rain because of how refreshing it was, but Aurora hated it because it made everything wet and sometimes ruined. Even thunderstorms; at first, he assumed she was scared of them as a little girl and it remained with her into adulthood, but she shook her head no and stated they just made you jump, caught you off-guard when you least expected it. That was what she hated more than feared, period.

But the thunderstorm occured the night of their first time, which was on Valentine's Day, a month short of their wedding.

~o~

 _"Jesus, I didn't think it'd be this bad!" she shouted as they hurried out of the Italian restaurant. He took out his umbrella and put it over their heads, their coats closing around each other's bodies to provide as much protection as they could so they could get to his car and head home to their apartment. It was Valentine's Day, and it had to end on this night with a rainstorm. It gave him a sense to lighten up, but it made her sour by the time it was over._

The night's not over yet, _his mind reminded him._

 _"Oh, Aurora. The rain might be more than a mere shower to ruin everything in its path - but it helps nature blossom," he told her with a smile as he opened the door for her and let her get in first, then walked around to the driver's seat, closing the umbrella and opening the door for himself. "It can't be that bad, my dear."_

 _She snorted and unzipped her coat before pulling the belt around herself. "Ruined tonight after we leave the restaurant."_

 _Jonathan sighed and started the engine. "I honestly do not understand why you treat rain as though it is your enemy. You have no phobia for it; you simply find it...messy."_

 _She said nothing, making him look up at her then when she turned the light on to take a look at herself in the mirror. He almost rolled his eyes; women and their hair and makeup. Her locks were in an interestingly braided bun as if to show little hearts in places, as well as set with small rhinestones in the shapes of flowers in opened parts, but also to hold the braids together. Her ears were exposed, showing twinkling heart-shaped diamonds. Her lips were painted tonight with a bright lava shade of red, her nails a shimmering dark blue with streaks of black. Her gray coat fell from the right wrist, exposing a diamond bracelet of unparalleled beauty in the pear-shaped halos, and her favorite ring replaced with a dramatic black rose set with diamonds, sapphires and tanzanites._

A sense of mystery, intrigue and drama - and all good things happening after midnight.

 _His body stirred at the sight of her. He loathed women and their pretense to shine, but Aurora knew to rouse him. She did not pine over herself as most women often did, but she fought to make herself appealing for him. Opening that coat more - Jonathan started the car and began to drive them home but watched from the corner of his eyes - she showed her dress for tonight, which was a midnight blue velvet dress with spaghetti straps and a subtle V-neck, the necklace a cascading chain of silver that even draped marvelously over her curves, eliminating the need of an actual necklace. She had not gone all out with red or pink, the silly sweetheart's colors, but for a dark color to represent everything that happened when the night fell...and the real fun began._

 _"I'm sorry if I ruined tonight with my attitude," she said as soon as they hit a red light some long minutes later which felt like an eternity. Jonathan shook his head._

 _"It's nothing to apologize over. We both have our own views of the rain. It's natural."_

 _Aurora snorted and laughed at the same time. "You and that clinical attitude, I swear to God."_

 _"You say that, but you don't mean it."_

 _After they first met back in college, they both had come to an agreement that a God did not exist, that it was in the name of science that they had come to life after the dinosaurs - and everything that happened before them. God had nothing to do with anything in the world. Radicals and fanatics believed otherwise. "When we get home, I want to make up for what I said," Aurora said, and he turned to look at her to see her smiling innocently - but her darkened eyes told another story. He knew the meaning behind her words._

 _"Aurora, are you sure?" he asked. They had been together for a year before the last seven months of their engagement, but they had never once gone beyond the levels of their relationship, but it wasn't like they were traditional in waiting until their wedding night._

 _"Yeah, and besides, you know what this day is all about." She winked. "And besides, anything happens after midnight."_

 _He exhaled without even taking a breath, in perfect timing as the light turned green and he brought them forward before turning right at the next corner. "You're right. How long have we been together - I think we've waited long enough." In fact, it never crossed his mind - but now that he did think about tonight, he suddenly felt like a teenage boy again. He had never done this before, never focused on women in a positive light before Aurora. He was worried about not making their first time memorable, and a variety of other things._

 _They said no more words until they got home, and he locked the car up after she got out. Walking up the stairs until they reached the third floor and number 302 C, he unlocked and opened the door for her to go inside first. Jonathan had turned his back to her when he locked the door; the rain pelted madly against the windows, and soon there was the sound of rolling thunder. Thunder and lightning always made his fiancée jump, but if only their upcoming first time could relax her._

 _There was the sound of rustling behind him. "I'm feeling a little...afraid."_

 _He laughed, turning around to face her. "It's good to be scared." When he saw her, his breath hitched when he saw her in her blue dress, coat discarded on the armrest of the sofa. He changed his use of vocabulary. "Aw, my little sunshine, there is nothing to be scared of." He wrapped his arms around her and brought her in for a kiss. "Shall we hit the bed right away, or should I get the candles set up first?"_

 _She giggled. "Get the candles ready while I get ready for you." She pecked him on the mouth before pulling from him, surprising him by reaching and pulling her dress over her head, leaving her in her strapless blue lace bra and thong, lighter than her dress and mirroring on cobalt. Turning her back to him, he had a view of her ample rear end, stirring his loins and inner muscles. Jonathan ignored it for the time being and made way for their shared bedroom._

 _None of the lights in the house were turned on, but that was fine with him. The only light on was in the bathroom adjacent to the actual bedroom, where he heard the shower running and Aurora's soft voice. Smirking, Jonathan found the two candles and placed them on either side of the bed, one on hers and the other on his. They both smelled of lavender, cashmere and wood mingled with fresh citrus. Finished, he hurred to undress until he was down to his tight gray briefs, climbing into bed and waiting for her to come and join him._

 _The water stopped running, telling him she was finished. His mind suddenly stirred with the idea of her coming to him dripping and naked..._

 _But the real picture stunned him altogether._

 _Aurora stood in the bathroom doorway, her long hair in thick free curls, and she was wearing a garnet-colored chemise with a lace bodice, hem and side slit to show more thigh. He shifted and sat on his side, swallowing as the heat burned hotter than before, impatient to wait any longer. He could not speak the words aloud that she was beautiful - it was because she_ was _._

 _Her moves were swaying subtly and tempting, the glint in her eyes reflecting off the candlelight, and soon the weight of her body and her soft skin as well as the boiling heat caressing against his was too satiable to resist._

~o~

The memory warmed his bones and his very being if only for a short time. He managed to continue for awhile longer in time for the rainfall to slow down, and he ignored the throb in his leg the best he could. He relished the memory of how he broke that little layer of skin that was proof of a woman's first time, and the little blood produced. He had been frightened then out of his wits but did not let her know that; she calmed him down with her assurances that she was all right.

It had been _exquisite._

She might not have been happy with the rain, but it couldn't have been at a more perfect timing when they fell asleep in each other's arms. After that, they had not been able to get enough of each other. It made the next month to come that much easier, because they were married two days after the first day of spring. He had no living family, and she had her parents attend, but he could not say that he and her father were on the best of terms. It was not uncommon for a father to be overprotective of his daughter, but it was like he was sticking his nose in deep with Jonathan when he said he would come at him with razor blades and tabasco sauce if he so much as made his daughter cry, hurt her in any way. What a fool!

He had come onto a street which displayed a coffee shop, a few thrift stores and others he did not really pay much mind to, as he was concerned with finding an alleyway and a location filled with bonfires - anything to give an indication he found what he was looking for.

The fork of his trousers gathered at the base, tightening and burning him below the waist, causing his cheeks to flush. He could not possibly be aroused at a time like this; he tried not to think about his wife in this matter right now. Turning his back from the quaint public street, Jonathan dove through an alley and quickly strapped on his glove, the mechanisms clicking in place. Who knew what time it was now; it was very late, but Gotham was all about "everything bad happens at night, especially midnight."

There was a noise, something cluttered and falling over. Crane ducked behind a dumpster just as he was about to step out from the bricked corner. The air smelled dank, water drops still falling even though this part shielded him from the softly pouring fall. His brown hair matted to his head now, droplets hanging from his lashes. His ears picked up voices and the sounds of footsteps.

"Hey, man, what did you get this time?"

"Got a hundred bucks from the old man. He didn't think he could match me with just a cane and not a gun like me."

Jonathan suppressed a sneer. A robbery took place, some helpless old cretin involved. Well, these two would get what was coming to them soon. His fingertips pressed against the ends of the needles in his glove but didn't push them. They itched with needing to push the toxin into fragile skin. "What about you?" he heard the same man ask the first one.

The former man laughed it off. "Ain't nothing much, but I think I might have gotten lucky - if only the bitch wasn't armed," he sneered. "Earlier I saw a chick walking home; I would have taken her car and keys and everything if only she wasn't free from them. But then again, whatever else she had might have substituted -"

"Oh, you always get the good stuff!"

"Women are always better than money for me!"

"Not always true, man!"

Jonathan's body thrummed with anger and the lack of patience. _Damn it, get to the point already!_ "What did the bitch look like?"

"Eh, sexy as hell, but so fiery. You know I like that. Long blonde hair, though she was wearing two rings on her finger. She was married, but damn she was so hot I couldn't help it. She had a gun, though, and threatened to shoot my balls if I did not get away from her. She also said she was a...doctor or something. A surgeon." He laughed obscenely, and from what Crane's ears could tell, he licked his lips, too, at the image of the woman. "She must have good hands, too, if you know what I am implying."

"All too well," his friend agreed.

"And those green eyes of hers? Fiery."

Jonathan Crane - or should he say, Scarecrow at this time - was seething with more fury than Mt. Kilimanjaro. _Aurora...they're talking about MY Aurora! How_ DARE _they?!_ That gave him more than enough of a good reason to give them large doses of their worse fears. _At least they failed to have her. My Aurora, you have someone coming home proud._ At that point, he decided now was the time to strike.

One of his feet lashed out and kicked at a can, the tin clattering getting their attentions.

"Hey, what was that?"

"You tell me. The Batman?" the second asked nervously, but the other laughed.

"Nah, I heard the Batman was trapped on Arkham Island. Or better yet, he's busy with chasing Harvey Dent - or Two-Face, as he likes to be called. He won't have us tonight."

"I don't know. He's a ninja, that one. You never know with him. Remember he pushes the boundaries?"

"You honestly think I don't know that?!"

Crane snickered to himself as he readied himself, pulling his makeshift half-mask down and then pulled the real one over his face. _Something much worse is coming your way, boys. You will see soon enough._

"Hey, wh-why don't you go check it out? You got a gun, right?"

His friend sputtered. "You idiot, you're actually leaving me alone to look for the Bat myself? How about we both go together?" he asked, losing his brave shell and sinking to the same level as the other imbecile. Could this get any better? Scarecrow found he was unable to keep himself together, but stifled his laughter to himself. They were in, as the average person would say, for one hell of a surprise.

Or should he say, shock?

"Okay, fine. I'll go, you scaredy-cat. Ain't no Bat gonna scare me tonight."

Scarecrow waited and waited, his excitement unable to be quenched, and it burst yet remained controlled when the man finally came around, and he pulled him into his embrace, slapping a hand over his mouth and bringing his gloved hand up, sticking the needles into his exposed neck, the glowing yellow serum vanishing into his body. The man began to scream against his hand, falling to the ground and writhing at whatever demons he was seeing.

Hearing his wails, his friend joined - the stupid, brainless cretin! - and as soon as he saw Scarecrow laughing maniacally, he turned to run, but he was no match for the Master of Fear and now lay howling on the cold ground. _"Was that good enough for you - your just desserts as that unfortunate lady of yours would have felt had you succeeded?"_ he leered, leaning over him, then looked up at the first.

Both of them did not appear to be your typical on-the-street thugs; both were casually but otherwise finely garbed in collared shirts, jackets and denims. They smelled of whiskey and cigars; out for some debauchery and then a fun robbery they succeeded in, and would have been an attempted rape if the woman involved had not been smart enough to own a weapon. Aurora was not a fool to not prepare herself.

He decided both were fitting his needs, and it appeared he wore the same shoe size as the second man who tried to violate his wife after she was coming home from work. Reaching up, he took his mask off and spat at that crying child. "That was for the poor woman in question." These men would not last much longer in a few more moments, so Jonathan hurried and took what he needed: he took Aurora's would-have-been rapist's socks, shoes and his wallet, namely the stolen money. He would not go around penniless for awhile. From the other one, he got the rest to cover his body and left them both sobbing and succumbing to trance.

Jonathan set the garments and his costume and gauntlet down as he found a private spot in the alley, shivering again as he stripped off the rags that was his costume. His naked body trembled as he wrapped his arms around himself, looking around and seeing through only one eye. His leg ached when he had taken his pants off, and he was at risk of hurting it even more when he dressed by himself, but he was too far into the deed to give up now. As fast as he could, he dressed himself up and pulled the coat over himself, pulling the hood over his head before making his way out of the alley.

By now, the rain had ceased altogether in its shower state and had become nothing but a fine mist. This time he welcomed it on his face; he had put the rag back around his face to cover his nose and mouth. Keeping his eyes open, both of them, he set about taking the right street directions as he recognized where he was and knew he was not that far away.

And when he finally reached Anchor Street, he stopped there when he beheld the neighborhood. His heart began to beat fast again with anticipation.

 _I'm home._


	4. When the Heart Comes Home

Chapter Four

When the Heart Comes Home

The fire escape was always the obvious choice to get to the place that was once his home. He was back - she might be asleep at this time, or maybe not. He had no way of finding out until he got inside.

Now that he was inside, he shrugged the coat off and looked around the dark apartment, the city lights illuminating the best it could, and from what he could tell, everything was the same as it had been when he left. She had not bothered to change a thing, which pleased him.

It was the one framed photograph on the oak table beside the sofa that caught his attention. Soft bamboo wood around a rectangular image upwards - it still smelled as he remembered. Holding it in his hands once again, he sighed as he held it to his eyes and beheld the cherished memory. The couple underneath an arch of manzanita branches and lush white orchids, against a serene Asian garden and pond. The orchid symbolized rare love and beauty, making it appropriate to be the only flower at their wedding. Glass jars were hung from the arch, filled with green moss and more orchids.

But it was the bride herself and the man he used to be that captivated his attention the most.

She was so enchanting in her billowing tulle gown with the soft V-neckline, the front of the bodice accented with three-dimensional flowers, and her wild sunny hair bearing a simple delicate crystal headband, holding a cascading orchid bouquet in front of her as she looked up at him instead of the camera, and he looked down at her with the same love that he still held for her - at the time his nose and lips were still in that shape. He closed his eyes, thinking once again how he might appear to her now.

Jonathan set the picture back down with shaking hands and went to moving about the apartment.

He thought perhaps he could bandage himself up and then sleep until morning, but she must have to be in the ER and could not miss that because of him. He might as well catch her and give her an early heart attack. But she had to see him again sooner or later. She could not take him to the hospital for obvious reasons. Even, she might not yet know about Arkham - but on second thought, she had to because the word had been out about Joker taking over.

He successfully found the washroom beside the kitchen, since they kept the med kit and everything medical in here, but he cursed himself for leaving the door unlocked, because he must have unknowingly made a commotion that it woke the owner up. He quickly bowed his head and hid his face from view when that familiar angelic voice spoke to him, mixed with questioning, happiness and shock all in one.

"Jonathan?"

~o~

It had been one hell of a night for her when she left the ER; her car had broken down and taken to the mechanic's until the end of the week, and she took a cab which only took her so far before she could walk the rest of the way home - handgun in hand and she never took self-defense lightly. Jonathan always warned her about this from time to time, but so did her retired army father.

He never did like Jonathan; it was no surprise for the father of the bride to have suspicions about the man his daughter married, but he never accepted Jonathan into the family. "I don't like the looks of him, Aurora," he'd said. "You're making a mistake marrying him. I won't allow some arrogant nutcase as my son-in-law as long as I am living and breathing, and be damned if you have any kids with him."

That hurt more than anything in her life; they were never close, not even while he was away during the Iraqi war, not even when she was a child. There had been few times when she was younger than seven that they used to be before he was gone for good for the majority of her teenage years, coming home only to have become a changed man and not the father she'd needed. His punishments were always more severe than any little mistake she made, no matter her mother's pleas as well as her own. After she married Jonathan, she stopped speaking to him altogether. They would just never reconcile.

Her mother had died of lung cancer four months ago. She told Jonathan this during one of her visits to oversee a case, and his regret was not being there as her mother had been sweet and accepting while it lasted, but there was nothing to change that. He was locked away in the nuthouse he once worked at, called his personal domain, and ever since his arrest, her father came to see her after so many years of avoiding each other, angrier than ever.

"I told you he was no good. I don't see why you should stay married to him, my idiot of a daughter."

She bristled and fumed with angry tears then, saying, "You've said that before, and I've said this before: I don't care what he does. I believe in him, unlike you ever believed in me."

He'd slapped her in the face then, in the doorway of her own apartment. "As your father, I have every right to do so."

"You're not my father anymore." That earned another slap.

"Either you divorce him now or I will disown you."

"I never was aware you still owned me," Aurora had said with more than enough courage; the hits to the face weren't new, but it made her hate him even more. If only she had her pistol then to shoot him below where it hurt the most, never mind the assault charges to come. "I don't care if you do. I don't need any of your money or the insurance. I'm more than enough covered as it is."

He snorted and turned away from her. "Then as of this moment, you're no daughter of mine. If you see that criminal of yours, tell him that I was right about him from the start."

"Don't count on it! We never loved you anyway." She expected no response from him, and when he never stopped to look at her one more time, she'd slammed the door to him and pressed her back to it.

He never came to her after her mother's death, either. She and her mom still spoke over the phone, but her father wanted nothing to do with her - no surprise there. But now that her mother was gone, nothing had changed. She still wanted nothing more to do with him, didn't care if anything happened to him, either, no matter him still being her father.

Her parental issues were not the only matter troubling her for the last couple years. Jonathan still fared no better, continuing what he did best on extreme levels, marking him as one of the Batman's and GCPD's greatest targets, labeling him as one of the greatest "supervillains" of all times. Even everyone at work marked her, either not speaking to her, whispering behind her back, and giving her glares of disgust. She pretended she didn't notice, but it was like she was a phantom not welcome into the realm of the living.

She was called "Scarecrow's Mistress".

The word could very much be as close to "concubine" or "bride" as it possibly was.

Earlier that evening she'd heard about Joker's attacks, the supposed "bombs" and blockading Arkham to keep what was really going on inside. Whatever it was at the time, it was huge - and she suspected that her husband had somehow been involved in this. _But how can I be sure?_

 _Is Jonathan all right?_

She had been so afraid that something might happen to him; as a super criminal, your life was on edge even when it didn't seem to be. Aurora kept her head down and pretended no one looked at her when they whispered about the Scarecrow. And then the story soon got out as soon as the night drew to an end as well as to her shift:

SCARECROW AMONG MISSING IN ARKHAM CHAOS

Her heart dropped then and there just as she was in the middle of cleaning the surgical instruments alone in the lab. Something inside her warned that he must be dead, that she shouldn't get her hopes up, as the story went on that, according to the Batman, he was about to pour in his latest, most powerful fear toxin into the water mains before Killer Croc burst and attacked him, dragged him into the water. His body was so far unrecovered, and the question was open-ended.

But here he was. He was alive and back, just like he promised her. She wanted to know how he got in, but that question was not important at the moment. Only that he was not in his costume, in clothes he must have stolen from someone else, and keeping his back to her. Croc must have hurt him, and he was hiding his face from her.

"Aurora, don't come any closer."

Still wearing her blue rose-printed pajamas, Aurora stayed where she was, knowing that her husband was more damaged than last time she saw him, and her heart broke. What had Croc done to him? "What did he...?"

His voice was minorly strangled but still clear, and she could see he was shaking. "I'm...hideous now. The Bat and the animal both did this to me. And for that..." He slowly raised his head but kept it low enough to hide his face from her, his tone darkened. "...the Batman and all of Gotham will know the true meaning of fear."

She closed her eyes. She was not sure if she could say she had the fondest feelings for the Batman even though he did do the best he could to save everyone, but it wasn't like he would always be there to save _everyone_. She despised him for helping put her husband in that place. Not all criminals were evil; even the supposed "good" people made them that way. She'd known Jonathan long before all of this to know that, never mind everyone saying she was fooled and _was_ a fool.

He was now hinting exactly what it was: he intended to plan his revenge, make more than enough of his fear toxin to destroy the whole city, cripple it with fear. It terrified her to no extent. Not everyone in the city was filth, and he was no vigilante. He thrived on fear, thrived on studying it, and this time was purely more than just curiosity. This was vengeance - notably against the Batman. "And what about...me?" she asked softly, turning her face from his back and looking down at the tiled floor.

"What about you?"

"I'm one of the residents of the city. This is the first night you come back to me, and this is the first conversation we have," she stated, a little mad now. "I saw the news earlier, even began to think something happened to you, and now you're already talking about revenge on Batman and the entire city."

He sighed heavily, still refusing to look at her. "You're right. You're also my wife. Which means I have to go to great lengths to make sure that you are not harmed," he stated, though somehow Aurora did not detect any warmth in his voice. Was it because of what tonight did to him? She took a few steps forward and stopped less than a foot behind him.

"I know." She reached out for him and the sooner she touched his back, he jerked, shrugging her touch from him and hissing.

"Please...don't...touch me."

She let her hand fall to her side. "Jonathan, what did he...do to you exactly?"

His answer was sharp. "You don't want to know. I told you, I'm ugly. A loathsome monster."

"Oh, bullshit, Jonathan. I'm your wife; I won't shrink back. I'm sure I can fix whatever happened." In truth, her mind reminded her that it would be extreme. She could not take him to the hospital because that meant he would go back to Arkham, and who knew about her troubles.

"No." He shook his head. "You don't understand..."

Aurora could not take this anymore and walked over to him, gently but firmly took him by the shoulder and turned him her way -

\- and she silently gasped at what she saw.

His left eye was poorly healing at the moment, but he was blind now in that eye; it was currently white but with the small red gash where he had been bleeding. Lower, his nose was in a horrendous shape, shredded like hamburger meat uncooked. Finally, his lips were gashed and showing red muscles and important vessels, partially the bone of his mouth. Somehow he looked like a skull instead of the human he actually was. "Oh, my poor Jonathan," she gasped, reaching for him.

He turned his face away from her. "I told you." At that moment, Jonathan Crane was a man standing on his pride and beating himself up mentally because he felt he did not deserve her, the woman he married seven years ago. "I'm not human any longer."

"Oh, Jonathan, that is not true." She reached up and cupped his cheek, turning him back to her. "I'll take care of this for you. You're not leaving until you are well again," Aurora promised, leaning up to kiss his untouched cheek instead of his mouth.

~o~

 _I was a fool; she still loves me. She doesn't care how I appear - she's going to treat my wounds._

He already knew he would never go to the hospital for this; they had to make do with what was already here. But it was going to be difficult, she told him, because she needed necessary hospital equipment that it was too late to get tonight. Right now, they would be going to sleep, and tomorrow she would be getting everything for the operation they would be doing at home.

He was getting a home surgical care. Jonathan wasn't going to get cosmetics as his wife had no experience in that field, and he wasn't a surgeon even though he had enough knowledge of the subject.

"Come here, let me get you cleaned up," Aurora told him as she led him out of the washroom. He held onto her as his left leg needed support. "You smell of sewer water, blood and rain."

He managed a laugh the best he could; he was in no shape for humor. Jonathan sat down on the side of the bed facing the bathroom door, watching as she maneuvered to start the bath for him. He could not stand in the shower. She came back to him and knelt before him, taking off the stolen shoes and socks. "Where did you get these?" she asked.

Remembering one of the two thugs who tried to come onto her, as she had not uttered a word about the almost incident, Jonathan looked down at her with hard eyes. "Oh, two thieving fools in the alley. One of them, I believe, robbed a helpless old man while the other boasted to his friend about how he tried to take an innocent female and failed - because she pulled a pistol on him," he added, finally cracking a grin as far as his ruined mouth could manage.

Her wide green eyes jerked back up when she was in the middle of undoing his pants. "Oh, you got him."

He nodded, seething. "My actions should be justified enough when I sent them both screaming into death under the nightly rain in that desolate place," he intoned, the poetic words making him laugh for sure this time, but she did not. "Aurora, one of them tried to attack you. I did you a favor, and you're not going to thank me for it?"

"I want to say thank you, but -"

"No, no but. It had to be done, end of story."

She shook her head. "Could have been my father."

Jonathan chuckled. "Still not speaking?"

"Absolutely not. Disowned me, remember? Not that I care." By this time, she pulled down his pants and left him in just the shirt and his underwear. He did the honors of unbuttoning his shirt until his chest was bared, and the fabric shrugged off his shoulders. By the time his briefs were down his legs, he was sitting nude in front of her. Why should he be shy? She'd seen him before. Aurora helped him stand up and led him into the bathroom. The tiles felt cool beneath his bare feet, and soon his whole body met with steaming water. Sighing heavily, he felt like he wanted to fall asleep right here and now. It had been so long since he had a real bath or shower with no guards or security cameras watching, when he could actually clean himself instead of having to do it with speed and on a timer. He looked up at Aurora when she dipped a rag in and brought it to his chest, running it over his skin. He closed his eyes and let her touch him and cleanse him at the same time.

By the time they were finished, she dried him up and brought him over to the same bed he once shared with her, laid him down on the left side so it was easy for his leg to not bump into hers by accident, more pressure adding damage. Jonathan looked up at her when she slipped beside him and leaned her head against his chest. His heart began to pick up its pace, and his arms came up to take her into his embrace. He was sleeping in his briefs while she was in her pajamas; it disappointed him that he could not feel her skin against him, but he would gladly wait for awhile longer.

"I missed you," he whispered to her before he drifted off into a calm, soothing sleep, but not before she breathed back that she missed him, too.

~o~

 _"You failed my son."_

She could never forget those words, those cold and cruel words from the woman whose twenty-eight-year-old son had a heart transplant surgery that had somehow failed. It wasn't her fault or the team, but the organ failed. It was bad and no one knew until it was too late. But no matter how much Dr. Aurora Crane tried to reason, the man's mother and grieving young wife both screamed at her for failing to save him.

Now she was alone in her office, dazed and feeling like she didn't belong here anymore. She lost patients before, but this time hit the worst spot in her system. The tools she had gotten from the lab near the end of the day lay before her across the desk, but it was like they weren't even there. Her mind replayed the event over and over in her mind that she had been granted the time to go home if she was really grieving that much.

 _Her hands were in perfect shape, not even shaking, the heart in place - but it was not beating..._

 _It was a bad heart that no one knew until it was too late._

She loathed herself for this, even though she was assured she did everything she could. Sometimes when she lost a life if it was really worth the trouble. Life was vital, but when it was lost, it was lost. When your number was up, your number was up. That was it.

The man's mother wanted to file a malpractice suit against her because she was in too much grief, and this would be the third time this happened to Aurora Crane. She remembered Jonathan saying over and over every time this happened that this was a disgrace. "You were only trying to save a life," he'd said. "You don't deserve this." But it happened anyway.

Now that she looked down at the surgical tools before her on her desk, she wondered if being a surgeon was worth it if all it involved was getting shamed if you don't succeed. She could not tell if being labeled being married to a maniac was worse than losing a life anymore. If all she had to give this broken city was worth living. She wasn't thinking suicide; she was speaking the truth. She once had a perfect life until her husband was exposed and arrested. He had been taken from her, and her troubles began there, the malpractices against her beginning there.

 _It must be petty and personal, because of who my husband is. It must not just be grief. This city hates me as much as they hate Jonathan, and I'm nothing like him._

She managed to force herself to her feet as she gathered the equipment to wrap and place into her handbag. She was going home to treat her husband.

 **I realized that Aurora must be lacking depth, but I hope I am wrong with the bit involving her father and the failed heart transplant I gave in this chapter. I really do not like main female characters - or any types of females for that matter - that lack depth.**

 **The thing with the failing heart and the patient dying was based off of one of my favorite movies starring Hayden Christensen (Star Wars' Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader) and Jessica Alba, "Awake", as well as the fact that the doctor was sued for malpractice. It's a dramatic thriller about a man with a weak heart who experiences anesthesia awareness and therefore feels and hears everything going on around him, unable to scream for help - and eventually hears a murder plot to have him killed. It wasn't a big-time success, but it's underrated.**


	5. Where One Ends, Another Begins

**Last chapter. Enjoy!**

 **Yesterday was the one-year anniversary I became a member and began publishing. :D I have so many stories out it isn't even funny.**

Chapter Five

Where One Ends, Another Begins

Jonathan's groans and muffled screams were terrible music to her ears as she closed the brace around his leg. She'd put a cloth into his mouth for him to bite on as this was going to be painful. This form of leg bracing was new to the physical therapy world, but the tension would be relieved as soon as he was adjusted.

The metal was strong enough to hold the broken bone in place as well as to aid him in walking right. The leather straps were secure enough to keep the metal in place as well as to bend at the knee if he wanted to. He could even connect the ends to the shoes if he wanted to with cleats. She finished the end strap and looked up at him with a slight smile. "Still feeling painful?"

He laughed, the cloth in his mouth preventing it from being a real one. He reached up to take it out to answer. "You try getting your leg snapped by a human crocodile, my dear."

"I'd rather take my safe side and avoid that," she answered, laughing. He put the cloth back into his mouth. "Now, take this and then I'll get started..."

She held up the prepared syringe filled with morphine, to alleviate any pain he would end up feeling while she worked on his face. They were currently in their kitchen with the gauze, bandages and scalpel and scissors ready. It was going to be a great mess during the process. That was what scared her, infecting Jonathan and making it incurable to fix. He hadn't had this damage for even a night and day, but she needed to do it soon and now. She would _not_ let her hands shake; this was her husband.

"Oh, Jonathan, right now I do not know where to start..."

Why was she thinking like this? She was a doctor of surgery; she should NOT be scared. She supposed she should start with the worse at the bottom and work her way up - and that was the lips. The damage was irreversible, looking at them closely. Those lips so soft despite their thin nature, but Croc's vicious claws ruined them as well as his nose. It'd take years, maybe sooner, with the help of a cosmetics expert, but years was not what they had. She suppose she could...stitch them up the best she could. But his nose...

"I'll have to remove your nose, Jonathan."

He grunted, closing his eyes, mumbling something she could not make out. He removed the cloth to speak more clearly. "That's fine with me. I have time on my hands to renew myself and then surprise all of Gotham. Just do what you have to - and hurry!" he snapped when he noticed the morphine was still in her hands.

Quickly administering it, she got to work.

She'd patched his lips up the best she could, but in the end, they looked so crooked in places, like they had been randomly patched up. But nevertheless, they were back together in one piece - actually, two pieces. But now it came to his nose. She was forced to take it off as she'd told him, leaving him looking like a -

"I'm sorry you look like this now," she said softly, after applying antiseptic to his eye which had healed on its own. He'd hissed at the contact, but he was a big boy to handle it. He'd taken blows and healed his own injuries while growing up. She herself had taken slaps from her father, got a few bruises in the process, even got struck by a couple girls in school, but she never got anything like this. A first time for everything - but Jonathan's being was changed forever. Not that he wasn't before; his innocence was taken from him a long time ago as hers had been.

"I'll learn to live with it, my precious," he said tenderly, taking a few breaths and then placing his hand over hers, which held the bloodied scalpel; there was an equal mess on the table, and what was removed of his nose in a pink-red mess in a small bowl from the cupboard. She was going to throw that revolting thing out very soon and not a minute to waste. "You did what you could do."

Aurora's stomach lurched despite being used to seeing bits of flesh and body parts removed during operation; this time was an exception because her husband's nose was taken from him. "I lost a patient today. His mother and wife are going to sue me again. Which means I might end up losing this apartment because it's becoming more and more difficult to pay rent and everything with it..."

Jonathan snorted, then winced at the jolts of pain in his nose. "That is no surprise. You can always come away to live with me."

"And where would we go, Jonathan, hmm?" she asked, wrapping the meaty bits in as many napkins she could grab, then tossed it deep into the kitchen trash as it would go. "You practically had your old hideouts ransacked, maybe, but what about my career? I can't live your life, Jonathan, and we both know it."

Jonathan looked up at her with a rigid posture. His face was impassive. "You should realize by now that you don't belong in this world anymore, Aurora. You should come away with me, hide away with me and help me with the toxin. I need more than just basic thugs in the streets and fellow 'brilliant scientists' on this. Gotham is fallen apart more than it has been in the last many decades, even long before either of us was born."

She leaned back against the counter and rolled her eyes to the heavens. What Jonathan was saying was that he wanted her to give up her life of stability, where she could walk free, not worry about trouble coming her way and getting her thrown behind bars - why was he saying this now after seven years of marriage?! He had never once asked her to give anything of herself up to him, and she never asked the same of him either. "Jonathan, this is impossible," she said. "I'll be looked for; I'm celebrated Dr. Crane -" _Girl, what are you thinking of saying that? You're not so celebrated anymore for being the wife of the infamous Scarecrow! No one might even miss you anymore once they decided you're not worth finding._

And he was laughing, rasping mixed with his harsh cackle. "From the look of things as of late, you're not so loved anymore. You know no one will look at you the same way again, and this latest loss of yours in the emergency room has somehow made you open your eyes. You still love the people you save, but the others around you don't love you back. Just as I loved my career but rarely anyone involved in it returned the feeling - except you," he said, a smile managed at last with his lips sewn back into place. "Aurora..." His arms stretched out towards her, beckoning her to come to him. "...I don't want us apart again. I want my wife at my side while I expose Gotham to the truth. I want the world to watch as its greatest city becomes one of fear. You want to see it, too, this city which spat upon us both."

Her mind was telling her she was not a criminal like he was, as it had done numerous times before, reminded her that people needed her to save their lives - but the malpractice suits that forever stained her once-perfect record and the cruel whispers were living proof that she would never be the wonderful surgeon she used to be. Jonathan was right, as he always was. There was nothing to be done to fix this already destroyed city, and the Batman himself could not do anything about this.

Her hands stretched out and closed around his.

~o~

He was not a fool; she loved him and was considering what he was offering her: a chance to get away from this world that shunned her as it did him, but she was also afraid of it. She would be on the run as he was destined to be for the rest of his life, and that was where they both differed. She had a career she kept after he lost his, but why? She was no longer looked at with love, because of who she chose to remain with in spite of who and what he was in society's eyes.

"Aurora, you're confused, I know it," Jonathan said tenderly as he looked up at her. His voice sounded a tad funny to his own ears; it was the fact his missing nose was bandaged over. "But you don't have to answer me now. I'll be here for a few more weeks until I am strong enough to leave you for awhile, to do what I have to."

She pulled her hands from his and walked over to sit across from him, but she could not look at him. She looked down at the table, stoic, but her eyes said everything. "I'll join you only if I lose this house, lose my practice for whatever reasons. But right now, my place is here - but I have not abandoned you," she promised when she finally made eye contact. "Can we at least make a deal on that?"

He nodded, considering this. He would not force her to choose sides, but he would respect her wishes. _And I'll always come back to her when the safest chance comes._ "We can," he answered. "But when the time comes, you will be my consort?"

She burst out laughing. "You sound like a king ascending the throne and taking his queen."

Jonathan chuckled. "I believe that's the idea."

Aurora huffed and leaned back. "But we're not real royalty. This is called claiming an entire city by force, via tyranny," she pointed out.

If this was another simpleton talking to him like this, he would have laughed it off. Of course this was going to be by force; negotiation was never able to settle anything. How could you bring down an already crumbled city with just words? Action was always the answer. He never gained anything in his life by sucking up to those around him. "That's what the citizens of Gotham will know when they see my return," he said proudly, leaning back. "They will all bow down before me; just think of them bowing down to you once I have the operation completed."

He felt his entire face fall when another unwanted face came to mind. "If only Joker was not in the picture. Nothing is ever easy with him having all the fun he can grasp. He is another obstacle other than the Batman. I am now beginning to add him to my humiliation." Indeed, and he had every right to do so. But what could he do about Joker? It would be years before the Bat or anyone else found it in him to rid Gotham of that psychopathic clown once and for all. Then Harley would be better off without him.

"I agree. But Jonathan..." Aurora reached across the table and took his hand into hers. "...can we not talk about this right now? We have been separated so long, and I've missed you. I want to spend as much time with my husband as I can before he leaves and gets back to work."

He sighed and lowered his eyes. Now he remembered how much he had mourned over her; he had three weeks, maybe less, and should at least make the best of it. Retribution and scheming would come soon. "Alright, my dear. What would you like to do now that you won't get rid of me for awhile?" He felt his mouth curl into a devious smirk. Her lips pulled back into a grin.

"How about I take you to bed now and rest that leg of yours?"

Jonathan could only think of one thing, but based on medical opinion, how about leaving him on bed rest for awhile, but his body thrummed when it realized along with he that he'd missed her... _that_ way. "I can think of more reasons than my leg," he purred, standing up and leaning over her, keeping her eyes trapped to his.

"Doctor's orders," she said, though she wasn't serious; a smile tugged at her lips, trying to keep herself in her professional state, but this was not the emergency room.

"I know you won't hold to that order, Doctor," Jonathan growled seductively, walking around the table and leaning down to kiss her, chastely and feeling the contrast of her soft lips against his rough, stitched ones. He felt like he was the living embodiment of his costume persona, but that didn't stop his lips from meeting his wife's. He murmured wordlessly when she desperately pressed herself against him, standing up and wrapping her arm around his neck as they deepened their kiss. His own arm brought her closer, overcome with immense, immediate desire that had long been deprived from them both. Eventually, the lip locking slowed down to the point of realizing that if any of his stitches were torn open, he would end up bleeding again, resulting in a permanent scar upon removing the threads.

Moving into the bedroom, Jonathan looked up at his wife as she pulled off his t-shirt and finally his shorts, his bracer slowing the process down, but eventually he was left exposed before her eyes. She was undressing, too, and now she was down to her light blue lace undergarments he was irritated were not removed yet. _Be patient; you'll get there._

His eye closed when she loomed over him, kissing and nibbling his neck, then down the middle of his body. He shivered under her touch, sighing and rolling his head side to side. Her nail gently scratched the skin of his sides and thighs - but then came the strange but irritating toying of the one place he had made loud and clear the second time they began doing this. "Aurora," he growled, opening his eyes and looking down at her, seeing as well as feeling her fingers wrapping some strands of the sparse dark thatch around her forefinger, "you know I hate it when you do that." He had specifically told her he did not like the frustrating tugging of his pubic hair, but sometimes she did it anyway because she liked to annoy him, and now was no exception.

"I'm sorry, honey," she said sweetly, stopping what she was doing. "I just like this part of you."

He snorted before his throat lurched when she bent her head down, simply licking along his sex and giving him the attention he needed, for just a short amount of time and then moved herself over him, her body covering his and creating friction between them. Jonathan's throat rumbled as he reached behind her and unhooked her bra so her breasts rubbed against his chest sensuously and seductively. He could feel how deep into arousal she was between her legs, which his erection tinted through her thong and got a load of through the soft fabric; this lace wasn't anything like the scratchy form. Growling, he tugged the garment from her body, which she kicked off herself. "About time."

"I know." Her voice was a bit strained as his now was, for her dark wet heat mated with his hardness, and they were together again.

~o~

 _Her practice was done for. No matter how hard she fought for it. But her greedy and selfish coworker thought he could frame her for placing the improper medication in front of her to give to the patient. She would be facing charges of neglection, but that was the last straw. No matter anything not being her fault, but she got the fall because of her scandalous reputation._

 _Dr. Aurora Crane was finished. She was stripped of her license and her career over, which left her with little to no options - but there was one option for certain._

I'm going to Jonathan.

 _It had not been easy to track him down. He was in what was left of Arkham City. It had been several months since Protocol Ten was deactivated, and Joker was killed. Over that time, she'd met a few remaining henchmen of her husband, but otherwise, he remained hidden from the rest of the criminal underworld. Never did she ever think she would end up contacting crooks to track down her husband. He had said he'd be in Arkham City but finding someplace where no one else knew about, and that he would send for her when the time was right. But her old life was over, and desperate times called for desperate measures.  
_

 _Jonathan would be angry that she disturbed him, but where could she go now? He was hiding on Arkham Island now, deep in the process of concocting more than enough of his fear toxin that would cover the entire city. Wherever he was now, he must still be at Stagg Enterprises since its CEO had been disposed of. Once she was led inside, with her favorite dark coat wrapped tightly around her aqua blue sweater and jeans, her boots suede, and her hair in a ponytail, Aurora wrapped her own arms around herself in a futile effort to stop her rapidly beating heart, but Jonathan's stocky but equally nervous henchman tried his best to assure her his boss would be happy to see her -_

 _"Indeed I am. But I thought I told you to not bring her until the process was complete."_

 _That sudden booming voice made them both jump, but while the poor man quivered and cowered in fear, Aurora held herself. He was to her right, but she didn't look at him yet. "I'm sorry, Jonathan. But my old life as we both know it is over. You were right all along that this would happen, and I always anticipated it. I came here as we promised each other."  
_

 _He didn't answer her, which made her finally make eye contact with him, and when she did, she felt her heart jump, but it got no further than that. He did not look like the Jonathan Crane - or Scarecrow now - that she remembered, but he was still the same one. But all this planning and obsessing over revenge against Batman and Gotham had deteriorated his mind; she began to wonder if this was a good idea to be with him after all. But her decision had been made; there was no turning back now._

 _He was now standing in front of her, his boots making harsh thuds in his strides, which ceased until he was in front of her, his face destroyed by the mask and his worsened state - but his eyes, green and glittering, were tender as ever. "You know how to keep your promises."_

~o~

 _I will return, Batman._ A year and a half in the making, and the time had come.

 _You will pay for what you did to me._ And all of his beloved city with him.

 _Fear will tear Gotham to shreds._

He thrilled on the inside as he looked forward to this moment for a long time.

Crane took a look at himself one more time in the long mirror, admiring his new get-up which had improved far more than his original, even covering up more of his body. The mouth and nose of his mask was opened to show those ruined parts of his face; he looked like a walking skull-face now, but this face would make the citizens fall to their knees in fear now - his mask was even stitched more than the original was. His leg remained in its brace, but a new one constructed with his queen's help replaced the old one. And his clothing bordered on militaristic, for over his body was a long, ragged coat which was also covered entirely with stitches to match his mask and sporting numerous cans of his beloved fear toxin, improved with the help of the renowned Simon Stagg, but the fool thought to double-cross him. Not that Scarecrow didn't prepare for such treachery.

He raised his right hand to his own eyes, ignoring the mirror now. His gauntlet was strapped to his wrist, but the mechanism had additional improvement, for when he closed his hand into a fist, the syringes automatically filled with the poison and extended outward, more than ready to pierce the flesh of the unfortunate soul and inject into the body.

He still had no idea how the Arkham Knight found him, but Crane knew he could count on him the moment the mysterious man helped provide with everything he ever needed - including his army. Because of his past with the Batman, however it was and not pleasant as it sounded, that was all Scarecrow needed. Everyone else from Riddler to Penguin, a still-grieving Harley, and so on - with the exception of Poison Ivy - he was ready to pull the final trigger.

"How much longer?"

He turned to look behind him, to see the glorious creature who had been by his side all this time. She was magnificent, with her once-shining golden hair in a piling crown atop her head, her leather jacket unzipped slightly to show a creamy sweater as well as military cargo gracing her legs. She was his consort and his partner in all but name. Scarecrow aside for the moment, Jonathan smiled through his mask as his wife came to stand beside him, the both of them looking over the ruins of a once-great city from the tower. Surrounding this godforsaken island was a sea of gray, but underneath black as the night that would soon forever cover Gotham and its people.

"We will begin in a matter of hours, my dear," he answered. His voice had changed just as drastically, for the apparatus that had once been over his mouth to give him immunity to his formula had been reconfigured to be connected to his throat. He could hardly recognize his own voice anymore, not that it mattered to him now. _What has been done has been done._ "Do you feel the exhilaration when you know this city and its savior will be crushed once and for all?"

"Yes." All her time with him had opened her eyes to the truth of this wretched place - and the rest of the wretched world. To see it all beneath his feet would be a very pleasant dream for the both of them. Her arm came around his back to hold him close to her, his own doing the same. "I look forward to it. You did well, Jonathan - and our strange friend to thank for it."

He looked down at her to see her light green orbs darkened with a wickedness that roused him instantly. Her lips were parted lightly that he leaned down and kissed her with dark passion, with the smoking city before them unexpectedly waiting for doom to burst from the its streets.

 **I honestly can say that I'm happy with how it came, and no regrets. Don't get your hopes up, but I might do another of Jonathan and Aurora, but you just never know. I loved his new look in Arkham Knight as well as his badass voice like I said early on, and the chilling details from my research have been nothing short of perfection. Read and review. :)**


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